


Hypothetically

by emphasisonem



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, But if you're into Steve punching Nazis, Captain America Steve Rogers/Modern Bucky Barnes, Homophobic Language, I have some good news for you, M/M, Meet-Cute, So if you're not into that maybe it's not for you, Super brief mention, This fic gets a little political
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-13
Updated: 2017-03-13
Packaged: 2018-10-03 20:35:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10257521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emphasisonem/pseuds/emphasisonem
Summary: “Steve Rogers,” Bucky states, nodding curtly as he takes in the sight of the man before him. There’s dried blood below his nose that contrasts sharply with his smooth, fair skin. His bottom lip is split and there’s some bruising below his left eye. And yet, Bucky thinks as he moves closer, even bloodied and bruised and sitting under fluorescent lights, the guy looks like a fucking demigod.Some people have all the luck.In which it takes a certain NYPD detective a little longer than it should to recognize a national icon.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Another little ficlet :) This one was inspired by people at protests punching Nazis.

The blond sitting in the interrogation room looks eerily familiar, Bucky thinks.

He’s tall and broad-shouldered, sitting ramrod-straight in the chair they’ve provided him. His blue eyes blaze with a fury that Bucky thinks would burn if he got too close. That thought sends a shiver down his spine, and Bucky can’t quite pinpoint if the feeling behind it is fear or desire.

Maybe, he thinks as he opens the door and those bright eyes meet his, a little of both.

“Steve Rogers,” Bucky states, nodding curtly as he takes in the sight of the man before him. There’s dried blood below his nose that contrasts sharply with his smooth, fair skin. His bottom lip is split and there’s some bruising below his left eye. And yet, Bucky thinks as he moves closer, even bloodied and bruised and sitting under fluorescent lights, the guy looks like a fucking demigod.

Some people have all the luck.

“My name is James Buchanan Barnes and I’m one of the NYPD’s detectives,” Bucky continues, then gestures to the chair across from Steve. “Would you mind if I sit down?”

“Not like it matters if I mind, does it?” the man bites out, jaw tight and expression angry. Bucky blinks, hesitating before moving forward and offering Steve a damp paper towel.

“I can stand if you’d prefer,” Bucky replies, keeping his voice as even and matter-of-fact as possible. “Most people are just more comfortable if I sit down, you know? Both of us at the same eye level and all that.”

Steve’s mouth opens and closes, but he can’t seem to form the words, although he does take the paper towel. Bucky pulls out the other chair, waiting for Steve to nod before he sits. He watches as Steve cleans the blood from his face, wincing a little as he brushes the cut on his lip.

“You want to tell me what happened out there today, Steve?” Bucky asks.

“I’d rather wait for my lawyer if it’s all the same to you, detective,” Steve replies, a wry smile stretching across his handsome face. And is it just Bucky or is the bruise below his eye already fading? He dismisses the thought as Steve quips, “I know my rights.”

“I know your rights too, Rogers,” Bucky smiles, leaning back in his chair. “Just thought you might make this a little easier for me. I mean, we’ve got you punching the guy on tape, but-”

“That _guy_ , _”_ Steve practically spits, his lips curling into a sneer as he addresses Bucky. “You say it like he was just minding his own business and I-” Steve pauses for a moment, takes a deep breath, and then continues- “and _someone_ just walked up and clocked him out of nowhere for no good reason.”

“And if there _was_ a reason, Rogers, what do you suppose it might have been?” Bucky asks gently, never breaking eye contact with the man before him. “This is all hypothetical of course.”

“Of-” Steve stammers, clearly thrown by the way Bucky’s chosen to handle this. Bucky can see the warring emotions in Steve’s eyes- suspicion, which Bucky understands all too well, coupled with the desire to trust him. “Of course. He, uh, he might have been, for example, harassing protestors. He might have been a neo-Nazi.”

“And what might lead someone to make that conclusion?” Bucky questions, a slow smile spreading across his face. “That the guy was a neo-Nazi?”

Steve’s answering grin is small, but it’s there and Bucky’s heart speeds up a bit at the sight of it. _Gorgeous_ , Bucky thinks, marveling at the fact that the cut on his lip seems somehow smaller as Steve drawls, “Well, I suppose it could have been the slurs about Jewish and black Americans that he was shouting, or that fact that he called me a filthy faggot because of this shirt I’m wearing.”

Steve pauses to gesture at his rainbow-striped t-shirt with the words “Love Trumps Hate” emblazoned across the chest, a wry smile on his face.

“Been there,” Bucky murmurs, laughing softly as Steve’s eyes widen. Those bright blue eyes, so pretty and so familiar, Bucky thinks. Why the hell can’t he place them, Bucky wonders, as they trace his face.

“Interesting,” Steve smirks, and Bucky can feel his arms breaking out in goosebumps under that now predatory gaze. Steve clears his throat and continues, “But I , uh, I think the kicker might have been the swastika tattoo on his neck. And the fact that he went after one of the Jewish Americans he was disparaging. Your tape catch that too?”

“You know, it might have,” Bucky grins, jotting a quick reminder in his notepad to check the tape before meeting Steve’s eyes again. “Hypothetically, that is. And hypothetically, charges are unlikely to be filed here if what you’re telling me now turns out to be what happened; worst case scenario, you’re gonna get a fine. So, hypothetically, why’d you do it?”

Steve slumps forward, his head in his hands as he inhales sharply, before exhaling, “I don’t like bullies, and I didn’t think I’d have to fight this battle twice, pal. Punching Nazis is something of a reflex for me, considering.”

“Considering,” Bucky whispers, steely eyes wide as he finally realizes why the blond looks so familiar, why the name Steve Rogers rings a bell. He’s an idiot for not realizing it sooner. “I suppose that’s hypothetically understandable, Captain.”

 

* * *

 

“I’m, um,” Steve murmurs as Bucky leads him out of the police station about an hour later, everything settled. “I’m sorry I was so sharp with you at first, Detective. I just- I was angry.”

Bucky claps him on the shoulder and smiles, and Steve nearly loses his breath at the sight. It’s been, he thinks, a long time since he’s felt an attraction this instantaneous. Too long.  

“Yeah, well, I would have been angry too,” Bucky replies as they step out the front door. “Probably stupid to say it since you’re enhanced and all, but be careful out there fighting the good fight, all right?”

“Do you fret over the safety of every potential criminal you deal with, Detective?” Steve smirks, reveling in the laugh that teases from the brunet.

“Just the cute ones,” Bucky quips as he shoves his hands into his pockets, and Steve can feel a blush blooming across his cheeks as Bucky continues, “You can call me Bucky, Steve.”

“Well, Bucky,” Steve grins as the two of them pause at the top of the stone steps that lead into the station. “Hypothetically, I could do with a steadying influence in my life. Preferably one with killer cheekbones and a nice smile, and you seem to fit that bill.”

“Oh, yeah?” Bucky chuckles, and Steve likes the pink flush suffusing the other man’s cheeks with gentle color. “I guess I might be hypothetically amenable to that.”

“Drinks tonight?” Steve asks, delighted when Bucky reaches into his pocket and pulls out a business card and a pen. He scribbles something on the back of it and then hands it over to Steve.

“I’m off at six,” Bucky replies, letting his fingers linger against Steve’s for a moment. “I wrote my cell number on the back. Text me when and where, and I’m there, Captain.”

They say their goodbyes and Steve jogs down the steps, a wide grin on his face.

Arrest aside, Steve thinks that maybe landing a date with a guy like Bucky is the universe’s way of saying it’s still A-OK with him punching Nazis.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Feel free to come hang out with me on [tumblr](http://emphasisonem.tumblr.com/)!


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